


Hold On Hope

by prinkes



Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:34:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24428068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prinkes/pseuds/prinkes
Summary: On their campus radio show, co-hosts Carol and JD relay the events of last year.When Carol bet she could get Creepy Goth-Girl Jones and Golden Boy Rogers both laid before the end of the semester. Not to each other, obviously, that'd be way too easy. (Plus Rogers was begging to make that stick up his ass a little more literal.)But Jessica's moved in with Tony Stark off-campus, and Steve has a new roommate in the form of Matt Murdock. Golden Boy is just Tony's type - if he can find time in between running his company after his parents' death last winter. Meanwhile Matt is nursing a broken heart and clinging to a second chance after nearly failing out, but when beautiful women of questionable character come into the mix, he's a goner. Steve just wants a quiet life after losing his best friend overseas, and Jessica has a secret that might just eat her alive. Will these four find comfort and companionship? Or just more tragedy?**No powers, College-AU.**
Relationships: Jessica Jones & Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. Every Street is Dark and Folding Out Mysteriously

**Author's Note:**

> I blame Lola for this. I haven't written fic in ten hundred years or so.   
> (Someday I'll go back to the others I promise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The players are introduced. Jessica is the art student, but Tony's the pretentious one. Steve struggles to not babysit his new roommate. Said new roommate almost gets hit by a car. Matt gets turned on by Jessica threatening him. It's going to be a long year for these guys.

> "Hello and welcome to _Women's Radio!_ "
> 
> "Super creative name there, Danvers."
> 
> "It's short and snappy - like you, JD."
> 
> "I hate you."
> 
> "No, you don't."
> 
> _A long sigh._ "No, I don't. But maybe we should get into the show."
> 
> "An excellent point, co-host! All right folks, strap in. This story begins at the beginning of last year. Fall semester, our second year. See, I thought freshman year was a little boring - all right, there was that one fantastic rager thrown by the Space Club of all people -"
> 
> "Quill has great music taste, can't deny that!"
> 
> "And Nebs throwing fists with her sister was definitely hot. But other than that, the drama was just _lacking_. So I decided to take matters into my own hands."
> 
> "That's when you made the bet."
> 
> "Yep! I bet JD here that I could get the most unlikely duo hooked up before the end of the semester. I'm talking, of course, about none other than Goth Girl and Golden Boy.”
> 
> “Jessica Jones and Steve Rogers.”
> 
> “The very same. Now, I knew that hooking them up with _each other_ was a wash - for reasons that will become clear very soon. But they clearly needed to get laid, and when I decide to do something -"
> 
> "Absolutely nothing can stop her."
> 
> "Or you, my darling co-host. I like to think of us as forces of destiny. And destiny had a _lot_ to say last year..."

* * *

Jessica banged on the door. "Stark, if you don't get your ass out here, I _will_ break down this door," she shouted, glaring at the wood. "I'm going to be late to class."

"Relax, relax..." Came the reply from inside, and Jessica sighed irritably. Tony opened the door a moment later, grinning ear to ear, clutching two mugs of coffee. "I had to wait for the french press - you don't want crappy coffee on your first day, Jones. That's no way to start the semester."

"I _like_ crappy coffee," she huffed. But she took the travel mug offered her way. 

"That's because you have no taste. But that's why you have _me_ as your roommate," Tony declared. Jessica rolled her eyes and they headed out the door. 

"I have you as a roommate because Trish is busy being a popstar," she muttered. She had gotten used to having a famous sister, but the _lifestyle_ of it all still grated on her. When she first met Tony, she had expected him to be just another richie-rich asshole. It was for some _It's Patsy!_ premiere, one of those stupid goddamn parties she wasn't 'allowed' to skip. But she had snuck around, found herself in a workshop, and he was there too. For a second she'd expected him to throw her out, but he just called her over, showed her the car he'd been working on. She'd realized that he didn't like those parties anymore than she did really. They had a lot in common, surprisingly. For one, they preferred their booze paired with sarcastic comments and the sound of banging metal, rather than empty conversation and the dull roar of a crowded gala. 

So after Trish announced her tour, leaving Jessica desperate for a roommate, she'd turned to him. There were more than a couple perks - their penthouse was a hell of a lot nicer than the junky apartment she'd been eyeing. (Though she had it in the back of her mind still, just in case. She did a lot of things _just in case._ ) And Tony had a driver, which meant she wouldn't have to rely on the buses and subways. 

She reached the car before he did. Her hand hesitated on the handle, her breath suddenly caught in her throat. In the distance she could hear cars honking, brakes squealing. God, she hated cars. She hated cars. Maybe she could still get the bus -

Tony's hand brushed against hers, and she jolted backwards. "Sorry," he said, offhandedly. He opened the door and slid inside, the moment absolutely nothing to him. Jessica stood there frozen for a second, rubbing her hand like he had burned her. "Jones?" Tony peered at her from inside the car. "You good?"

"Yeah," she breathed. _Get a grip_ , she berated herself. "Yeah, yeah, let's just get to class," she muttered, climbing into the car.

"Happy! Take us away!" Tony called, tapping on the divider. Jessica shut the door and they were off. 

* * *

"Matt, have you seen my bag?" Steve was on his knees, digging through the large trunk at the foot of his bed.

"Nope," Matt replied, popping the _p_. "Haven't _seen_ it. But it's next to the fridge."

Steve sighed, and shot his roommate a look. "You enjoy doing that," he said, standing up and retrieving his bag. It was right where Murdock said it would be.

"Guilty as charged," Matt said. He was grinning, leaning against the wall and holding his cane between his hands. "Sorry. My last roommate said it was my pedantic nature."

"That's one word for it," Steve said. "Where is he this year?" he asked softly. The way Matt said _last roommate_ , the words had a certain weight to them. Maybe that was an inevitability - the dorms were small, cramped. It reminded him of the barracks. They were small on purpose. It saved money, but more importantly, it forced you to bond with the other soldiers around you. Reminded you that these men were your brothers. 

Bucky's face flashed into his mind, and he inhaled sharply. 

Matt went quiet at the question, drumming his cane against the floor. "Studying abroad," he said after a beat. "Said he needed to try something new." That was even more weighted than before. Steve knew an open wound when he saw one. 

He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulders. "We should get going," he said, opening the door. "And uh - you don't have to apologize," he added quietly. Matt tilted his head, arched a brow at him. "For the joke," Steve clarified. "I've been told I can be a 'sarcastic little shithead,'" he explained, smirking lightly. 

Matt laughed. "Then I think we'll get along swimmingly, soldier." He led the way out of the room, cane held loosely in front of him. Steve trailed after him, silently keeping watch ahead. He couldn't help himself. He was used to taking point, out in the desert. Navigating the cramped hallways of a college dorm was a very different experience, but old habits died hard. 

Harder than men, at least. 

They were both heading towards the main quad. Matt's law classes were in the Hull Building, but Steve was headed for LaFont. They were pretty close to each other, which he appreciated. Matt was more than capable of getting around on his own, but that didn't mean Steve didn't worry. The last time he'd taken his eyes away... 

No. No he wasn't going to think about that right now. He was starting a new life. A life he'd never really expected to have, but that was how life usually worked, right? The unexpected could hit at any time. A lot of men out there, they'd had crosses and rosaries. He remembered the Star of David tucked into Bucky's shirt, and he knew Matt kept a bible in his nightstand. Steve didn't believe in that kind of thing, not with any definitive kind of faith. If there was a god out there, Steve didn't think he could be captured in a book or a symbol. But there was some kind of force at work. Something bigger than any man, and Steve tried to guide himself by that, like a compass looking for north. 

They came to a crosswalk, and Steve reached out, grabbing Matt's sleeve. Matt gave him a look. "I can hear the beeps, Steve," he said quietly. Steve was going to apologize, but then a car pulled up and the door flew open. Steve only just managed to drag Matt out of the way before he got whacked. 

"Jesus, Stark, you almost killed the guy," came a woman's voice. Rough, ragged. "And I can open my own damn door." She climbed out of the car, a sour expression on her face.

"That's an exaggeration," was the reply. It was the man still inside the car, grinning at them. "But can you blame me? Obviously I was blinded by the light of a _very_ hot ass." 

The girl rolled her eyes. "Go invent something, idiot."

"I am a _genius_ , thank you very much!" Stark called back to her. "Go learn things, you tragic little undergrads. I'll pick you up later, Jones," he said, pointing at the girl. Then his eyes, deep brown and _shining_ , settled on Steve. "I'll pick you up too, if you play your cards right. That's my best friend right there, so be nice to her and I'll give you a _very_ enthusiastic thank you." 

Steve blinked at him, utterly bewildered. Before he could answer, Jones slammed the car door shut, and motioned towards the driver. The car drove off. 

"Sorry about him. He's..." She waved her hand in the air.

"Tony Stark." Matt had been quiet until now. His voice was tight, tense, his knuckles white where they wrapped around his cane. "What an asshole."

"Hey!" Jones snapped. She stepped right up to Matt. They were nearly the same height, though her combat boots gave her maybe half an inch. "Only I get to call him that. Keep running your mouth and I'll punch you so hard you see," she snarled. 

The other students around them gasped, started whispering. She either didn't notice or didn't care, because having said what she needed to say, she turned on her heel and stormed across the crosswalk. She made a beeline directly for... the LaFont building. 

Steve sighed. Maybe she was a music major, maybe she was in a different year. There was no way she was in his class, right? It was a big college. "You all right?" he asked, shaking his head, turning back to Matt.

But Matt wasn't holding his cane in a death grip anymore. He had his head tilted, the sun shining off his red lenses. "I'm fine, Steve," he said. "I'll see you after class." There was a _smile_ on his face, and it wasn't a smirk or sarcastic. Steve wasn't sure he'd ever seen that before. 

Matt strode off without another word. Steve adjusted the bag on his shoulder. The weight was too light, not enough to keep him grounded, but right now he focused on putting one foot in front of the other. He made his way up the steps of LaFont, and hung a left, walking into the first classroom. It’d be nice to just sketch for a while, after that disastrous morning. 

Jones was already at a table in the back. She glared at him as he walked inside. 

It was going to be a long year.


	2. Where Lies The Chance We Take To Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jessica and Steve struggle with still-lifes. Matt struggles with boundaries. Tony just struggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you take offense to the choking line, that's Lola's fault.

> "Welcome _back_ , dear listeners, to the greatest radio show on campus!"
> 
> "We’re the only radio show on campus."
> 
> "That’s not important, JD. _Women’s Radio_ is number one!"
> 
> "Carol... we only have an hour. And a _lot_ of story to tell."
> 
> "Okay, okay. So, where'd we leave off?"
> 
> "Matt Murderdick was getting turned on by the threat of physical violence."
> 
> "This is a good _Christian_ radio show, JD."
> 
> _Laughter, long and loud._
> 
> "Right okay. Steve and Jessica are in the same art class. Which they only find out after Tony almost smears Murdock across the pavement-"
> 
> "He'd probably enjoy that."
> 
> " _JD_ , focus."
> 
> "You're telling me to focus? You almost missed this whole thing, you were too busy staring at _my_ ass."
> 
> "I cannot be held accountable when you look the way you do."
> 
> "You're a good friend, Carol."
> 
> "And a better lover. Speaking of which..."

* * *

For hours, the only sound in the dorm room had been the _click_ _-clack_ of keyboard keys, the whisper of pages turning, the scratch of pencil on paper as Steve sketched a still life.The quiet was disconcerting. Steve never knew how to feel about silence. It could be a sign of peace, stability, comfort. But it could just as easily be a sign of trouble brewing on the horizon.

"I want to ask her out," Matt offered casually. "Should we get some dinner?" 

So, it was trouble then. 

"By 'her,'" Steve started, glancing up from his sketch. "You mean the girl who threatened to _hit_ you?" Matt shrugged, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. "You think that's a good idea?" 

"She was standing up for her friend," Matt said, feeling around for his cane. "Can't fault her for that."

"She didn't need to be a bully about it," Steve muttered. He scrubbed a hand over his face, and frowned at his sketch. The flowers and vase just didn't _feel_ right. He had only sketched sand and tanks and dog-tags for the better part of three years now. Flowers and vases felt... lacking. Weightless.

Maybe he'd feel better after dinner. 

They walked into the cafeteria, grabbed some burgers and settled in at a table in the corner. It was cleaner than a mess hall, but the quality was roughly the same. Steve had learned to swallow down just about anything. "She's in my class," he said in between bites."I gotta tell you, she's... she's pretty rough around the edges. She snapped three pencils and almost broke her easel because it was 'annoying' her."

Matt laughed, picking at his fries. "Sounds like my type," he said. "My last girlfriend choked me until I saw Jesus. And I'm blind, so that's saying something." 

Steve's face turned bright red, and _he_ started choking. Matt thumped his back until his airway was clear again. "Sorry," Steve whispered. "I didn't, uh, expect that." 

"The blind joke, or the sex joke?" Matt asked, giving him one last thump for good measure. 

"You always make blind jokes," Steve murmured. He pushed the last of his burger away, appetite gone. 

Matt leaned back, not eating much either. His cane tapped against the table leg. The quiet returned for a moment, and this time Steve knew better than to trust it. "So..." Matt began. "You're saying I should make more sex jokes?" 

Steve sighed. 

* * *

"I bet he's a virgin." 

"Tony, shut up."

"Ooh, I got _first-named_. What's the matter, Jones?" Tony was staring at her upside down from the opposite couch. Jessica had been trying to ignore him for two hours, but this still life shit was _stupid_. "Are you jealous? Are _you_ making eyes at that hunka-hunk of well-toned, crispy beefcake?"

"Do any of those words even mean anything?" she snapped. So did her pencil tip, and irritated, she threw it across the room. It hit the wall, leaving a mark. There were about four other marks already scattered across that particular wall.

Tony frowned, and righted himself. "We do have a security deposit, you know."

"Bullshit." Jessica set her sketchbook aside and strode towards the kitchen. 

"We really do!"

"And you really can afford it," she muttered, opening the freezer. She pulled out the whiskey inside, set it on the counter. Tony's eyebrows shot up.

He hopped off the couch, and sidled over. "I thought we were saving that for a special occasion," he drawled, fingers playing along the base while Jessica searched for clean cups. "Or at least for it to be _cold_."

"It's cold enough," she said, finally slapping two glasses down. She poured her drink, and let Tony pour his own. Just holding it was enough to settle her, but that first gulp was really what soothed her nerves. Her skin wasn't buzzing anymore, and if her head started to spin at least there was a good _reason_ for it. 

And maybe if she drank enough, it would keep the nightmares at bay. 

Tony sat down on a stool, sipping his drink with _class_ , as he was so quick to remind her. Jessica drained hers in three quick gulps, and poured again. "You good, Jones?" he asked. He had pulled something out of his pocket, bits of metal that he was tinkering with. He was always fiddling with something.

"That's the second time you've asked me that today," she pointed out, taking another long gulp of her drink.

"And the second time that you haven't really answered," he replied. His eyes flicked to hers for a minute before he went back to his work. "You've never been a ray of sunshine, Jess-"

"Gee, thanks," she muttered. 

"But you're different." His tinkering stopped. He was looking at her, she could _feel_ it. Her skin was crawling again, her head was swimming and it wasn't the liquor. "Jessica." His voice was soft, too soft, like a whisper in her ear. The kind of whisper that sounded like a _lie_ , like a trick, that felt like a hand around her throat. "I just -"

"I'm fine!" She slammed her glass down. The glass didn't break, but the sound was jolting. Enough to knock the thought of _whispers_ out of her head. "I'm fine, Stark. I just - I need to work," she murmured. She rubbed a hand across her forehead, then picked up the bottle and tucked it under her arm. She walked over, grabbed her sketchbook off the couch and headed down the hall.

"You're taking the bottle?" Tony yelled. 

"I drink, I draw, it's a whole process," she shouted back. 

Tony opened his mouth, but he heard the door slam in the distance. 

* * *

Once, in high school, a girl had asked him if Matt could tell the difference between his eyes being open and shut. It was a frustrating time. Maybe that's why he was remembering that now, as he lay on his bed, completely aware that his eyes were open. He couldn't sleep and he was _frustrated_. He had Torts tomorrow. With Professor Schuyler, and she would _not_ appreciate him falling asleep on his desk. 

But he wasn't really thinking about Professor Schuyler. 

"Is she cute?" Matt asked. He knew Steve wasn't sleeping, he could hear the man tapping rhythmically against something. A dog tag, maybe? It was metal, small, made a little _ting ting_ sound against his nails. "Not that it matters, especially for _me_ , but I'm curious."

Steve's sighs were becoming very familiar to him. Matt knew he was testing the guy - it wasn't personal. He tested everyone, frequently and without mercy. It was his way of combating the inherent pity-reflex that came whenever they realized that his glasses weren't just for show. 

Plus, it was fun. 

Steve was rolling over now, to face him. Matt did the same, out of solidarity. "I guess?" Steve sounded unsure, and though Matt had just met him, he already knew that Steve didn't like to deal with uncertainties. He preferred the concrete, the tangible. Maybe all his drawings were black and white too. "I still don't think she's a good idea."

"She's just a person," Matt replied, frowning. It wasn't like Steve knew about last semester. About Her. He still had one of Her scarves, tucked under the mattress. Getting rid of it felt _wrong_. 

"Look, I'm - I'm not the best person to ask for _relationship_ advice." Matt had gotten lost in thoughts, in memory of Her. Steve's voice knocking him back to the now was unexpected, but not unappreciated. Left to his own devices, Matt would tumble down every rabbit hole and they always led back to Her. "I've never even had a girlfriend."

"Why not?" Matt asked. He kicked at his blankets, the material too scratchy to be anything but distracting. "From what Tony Stark said, you've got a great ass."

He expected Steve to laugh. Steve did not. 

Awkward. 

Matt swallowed hard, and rolled onto his back. The tapping had started up again. "What is that?" he asked, the impulse quick and sudden, too fast for him to swallow down. That happened sometimes, on nights like this. 

"Oh, sorry," Steve said quickly. There was a shuffling sound, the sheets rustling with movement. 

"It's okay," Matt said. "I was just curious."

"You're curious a lot," Steve pointed out.

Matt had to chuckle at that one. "Guess I better be careful," he called out. "After all, curiosity killed the cat."

More quiet. It was deafening. 

"It's a Star of David," Steve said finally, mercifully. "It belonged to a friend of mine." 

Matt didn't have to work hard to put the pieces together. "Sorry," he said softly. This time, neither of them brushed off the apology. This time the silence felt solemn, but right. 

It still drove him crazy. Long after Steve's breathing settled into a rhythm and the tapping stopped, he was awake. He knew his eyes were open, but it didn't matter. Everything was still always black. 

* * *

It wasn't the first time he'd pissed off a friend, or even the first time he'd done it and had no idea _how_. Tony Stark practically made a living out of pissing people off. He had a lot of practice, he was very, very good at it. Rhodes' face would turn about twenty shades of purple, and Jarvis used to do this _sigh_ that was louder than any amount of yelling. (Not that his dad hadn't tried to top it, because well... that was _dad._ )

Jones would come around. Tony knew that. If she was really pissed, he'd be bleeding, and thus far he had no wounds. That was a good night. Made even better by the fact that he had a _second_ bottle in his proto-workshop, and he was putting it to very good use. 

The proto-workshop was a smaller version of the one at Stark Industries. Sometimes that 'professional environment' just didn't do it for him, and having the right mindset was _very_ important when you were almost solely responsible for developing the next step in cutting-edge technology. 

"No big deal," he said, to no one. Well, no one except the bot in the corner. Dum-E wasn't a work bot. He was more like a house pet. "No big deal at all, right bud? We're just gonna... reinvent the wheel every quarter." He took another sip from his glass - it was hard to remember exactly what number this was, but did that even matter? "Or at least a bigger _bomb_ ," he drawled, smirking at Dum-E. 

Dum-E clicked in confusion. Tony waved his hand through the air. 

"Why do I even talk to you? You're useless," he muttered, chuckling under his breath. Dum-E, desperate little mechanoid he was, just clicked happily at the attention directed his way. It was sad really. Pathetic.

"Ahh... shit," Tony said, staring down at the blueprints in front of him. "That's not gonna work. That's not gonna _work_ , there's not enough power to make that... Shit." He swiped the blueprints off the table. More disappointed than angry. Still he slammed a fist down. And again. He hoped the table wouldn't dent. It wasn't the table's fault _he'd_ screwed up. He'd failed to remember there wasn't an adequate energy source in _existence_ that would power the generator. 

His hand slipped, caught the corner as it came down. The metal edge bit into the soft spot right above his wrist-bone, and he jerked, scratching himself worse. A jagged red line ran from wrist to knuckle. It didn't bleed, not in any real worrying way, but it swelled up, a crimson welt. His glass had spilled too, in all the commotion. At least the blueprints hadn't gotten wet. 

Dum-E rolled up, towel in hand. "Thanks, bud," Tony said quietly. He cleaned up the table. Looked at his hand for a minute before deciding not to worry about it. He had bigger problems, and now he could think a little more clearly about them. He bent down, picking up the generator blueprints. Dum-E retrieved the dirty towel and wheeled it out of the room. 

Tony leaned against the worktable, away from the dangerously sharp corners, and poured over the blueprints again. "Okay," he murmured, scratching at his beard. "This is... this is doable. I can figure this out." Dad would've figured it out. Dad had been working with 1940s tech and made a floating _car_. (It didn't work _super_ well, but it had gotten lift off.) "I just... need to invent an entirely new power source. One that's self-sustaining, powerful - _clean_. Clean would be a nice touch."

"Maybe you'll win over the hippies. Stocks'll triple." Tony glanced up, a grin spreading across his face when he saw Jones standing in the still-open door. One hand on Dum-E's claw, patting him gently. The other held the still half-full bottle of whiskey. 

"You're up late," he noted, arching a brow. 

She shrugged. "Or early, depending on your life choices." 

"Ooh, let's not get into those," Tony quipped. He scooted over, and she came to lean against the table with him, glancing down at the blueprints. 

"You know, most CEOs probably get someone to do this stuff for them," she pointed out, reaching out and tracing a line along the lines of the framework. 

Tony chuckled lightly. "Yeah, but if I do enough of this, they let me out of the board meetings," he joked. They didn't. But they didn't usually need much from him either. Obadiah handled that part better than he could. "What are you doing up, Jones? _You_ have class in the morning."

Jessica shrugged, leaning back. "I was a dick earlier," she said, staring ahead. Contrary to popular belief, he _did_ know when to stay quiet, so he didn't say anything. Just let her get through it. "I walked off with the booze. Not cool. I see you managed," she said, gesturing to the overturned glass on the floor behind them. 

"Accident," he said quickly. He walked around the table, laid the blueprints out. Jessica reached down to grab the glass for him, setting it to the side. "This thing's got me buzzing, you know? Really, really buzzing."

"And bleeding." Jessica started to reach out for his wrist, but stopped short, just pointing. Tony tilted his head, then shook his sleeve over his hand. 

"It is _not_ ," he insisted. "This is nothing. You should see what I can do to myself with a wrench," he said, smirking at her. She didn't smirk back, but she rolled her eyes with more playfulness than malice. That was a win. 

She lifted the bottle and filled his glass, before taking a swig straight from it. "Anything else I can do to help?" she asked. 

"You could get me the blonde babe's phone number," Tony offered. He expected her to slap him, but she didn't. She just set the bottle beside him, and made for the door. 

"No promises," she said. "Get _some_ sleep tonight, okay?"

"No promises," he echoed, as the door closed behind her. 


End file.
